Blooddrayne
by Caipirinha the Piranha
Summary: Ginny Weasley sees thing, horrible things, about how the world'll look like if Voldemort ever defeated Harry. And then, who is the eyeless dead girl? How will she find Blooddrayne? How will she save the world? I had to remove the story and upload it again
1. Default Chapter

Blooddrayne  
  
Chapter 1: Blooddrayne  
  
Silhouettes as black as the night crept at the edge her vision through the smoke-filled twilight of her room. They spun their web of fear in her mind and whispered promises of what was to come. She sought to escape the dream that awaited her, to jump up from the sweat-stained sheets, but fear lay like ice in her veins and pressed her to the bed. And so she lay paralyzed and clutched her frozen soul until finally, she heard the sound of hooves and it began anew.  
  
*  
  
Red half-light breathed around her like the inside of a smouldering body. The stench of decay and blood strangled her throat and the heat bit into her numb flesh. A hissing, snorting and shouting reached her ears, dull and distant, yet omnipresent and perpetual like the sound of a huge fire.  
  
Now a sobbing sounded from the red fog and she saw a girl in a red-stained shirt, not far from her, cowering over a blood-covered bird that lay there. Again, the girl sobbed and her whining cut into her heart. She reached out, wanting to hold and comfort the girl, but claws dug into her flesh and dragged her away. Hundreds of limbs took hold of her, covering her like worms, their claws ripping the very flesh from her bones and dragging her down to the ground that opened up like a bloody wound. From the twilight grew shapes, fangs flashed like daggers and gigantic bodies unfolded, bodies distorted and disfigured as if mocking the natural order. A breath of heat and blood lay in the air, heavy like oil yet still intoxicating in its promise of power and death.  
  
Still she strove to reach the crying child, to give her solace and hold on to the spark of humanity that she believed to see in her. But suddenly, she turned to her and she saw the girl's face as she stared into empty holes from which bloody tears flowed over ghostly-white cheeks. Her whine was no longer a crying, it was a demented giggling that escaped between small, sharp and bloodied teeth from her small throat. She grabbed her hair and forced her to look to the ground.  
  
As she looked down upon the bird that crawled there, she realized she was looking at herself, the grey dove of her soul, its feathers heavy from the blood of slaughtered dreams, old and weak, caught in the senseless dance of perishability. Now child and beasts alike began to scream and rejoice, as if mocking her pitiful existance. In that instant, she wanted to scream with them, wanted to leave her old, grey flesh behind and like them, become strong and immortal, craving only the pleasures of the flesh. For here, they were gods, each and every one an arbiter of life and death.  
  
Yet Aonir's Star still glowed inside her, a small pinpoint of hope and faith, reminding her of her human soul. Recognizing her doubts, they spat at her with disgust, clawing her flesh and sinking their fangs into her body as they began their meal, a horror of which shecannot tell while awake. When they were done, they tossed her ravaged body aside and she began to fall.  
  
She fell into the bloody lap of the earth, down an endless abyss, between small bridges of red rock, down, and still further down. Massive chains of dark iron spanned the walls of the chasm, black links covered with rusty hooks to which the bodies of the damned were slung, hanging for eternity over this pit of endless despair. And she saw the Red Horde, crawling up from the glowing depths. On stone towers they climbed up, an endless stream of red bodies. A mass that grew like a tumor under the surface of the world, and slobbering, they shouted and screamed in their craving for flesh and souls. The fires of the earth inflamed her mangled body and like a screaming torch she fell past thousands of them, praying for the merciful release of death.  
  
*  
  
With a scream Ginny shot up in her bed. The covers clinged to her like a second skin, drenched in ice cold sweat. She had had this dream ever since Voldemort was back in her third year and the first time she had it, she hadn't eaten for a whole week, so disgusted. She couldn't tell anyone, for she had learned, if you tried to avoid it, it would come sooner. She didn't knew if this was yet another vision of what was to come, or what would happen when Voldemort won the War. Her heart was hammering in her chest out of fear. Deciding she didn't, couldn't go back to sleep, mostly out of fear of seeing 'the Dream' again, she slowly but surely pushed herself up and out of her bed. Looking at the alarm clock, she sighed. It was just a few minutes after dawn and seeing as it was a Saturday, people wouldn't be up for hours. Still shivering from her nightmare, she walked over to her dresser, pulled out a black leather pants and a tight white tanktop. Going into the bathroom, she placed her clothes onto the sink and looked up into the mirror. With a terrified scream, Ginny fell back and into the bathtub, hitting her head painfully against the wall behind it. But she didn't notice, not even when small drops of crimson liquid appeared on the side of the bathtub. She only noticed the mirror. The eyeless girl out of her dream stood in it, a malicious grin on her face. After a minute, the girl lifted a petite finger to her lips and leaned closer. Ginny was lifted up from out of the bathtub by an invisible force and was placed inches away from the mirror, staring into the dark pits of where the eyes of the girl should have been. The grin never faltering, she whispered just one word. Blooddrayne.  
  
A strong wind pushed her away from the mirror and against the opposite wall, again hitting her head. For a moment Ginny saw nothing but black and when the light came back, she saw her room mates, Myranda Bourne, Cameron Steele and Moyra Blanca hovering above her.  
  
"Gi..re you..kay?" Ginny vaguely heard Myra's blurred form say. "Camer..sor McGo..all!" A few minutes later, she was hoisted up on her feet and when she collapsed again, she was pulled over somebody's shoulder. It was a man, that much she could tell, but not who. Before she knew it, she was layed down upon something soft and another blurred person came into few. Her head was lifted up and something horrid tasting was poured into her mouth. Moaning, Ginny blinked a few times, and a couple of blinks later everything was sharp again. Three people were in the room, looking very concerned. One was, as she had guessed, professor McGonagall. Next to her stood Sirius Black, the new DADA teacher and on the other side of her bed stood Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Are you with us now, Miss Weasley?" McGonagall's voice echoed through her head. And though she could see them clearly, the professor's voice sounded far away. She opened her mouth.  
  
"I think so," she croaked, her throat still raw from all the screaming she had done that night. "What is Blooddrayne?"  
  
*  
  
A/N: Yes, this is very little, but it gets more with each chapter. It's just that, I think I suck at writing and the beginnings are always the most impossible to write in a story.. Anyway, review and tell me exactly how much I suck.. Thank yuuz  
  
Caipirinha the Piranha 


	2. Chapter 2: Mor Duine

Blooddrayne  
  
Chapter 2: Mor Duine  
  
"Blooddrayne?" McGonagall asked Ginny, who was staring at them all in shock. "What are you trying to say?"  
  
"Blooddrayne. Who or what is Blooddrayne?" Ginny repeated, more forcefully. All in the room shrugged and she sighed. It was no use. They knew as much of this 'Blooddrayne' as she, herself.  
  
"I think you could do with some more sleep, Miss Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said as she poured a concotion in a glass and poured it down Ginny's throat, who coughed and grimaced at the filthy taste of it. She saw Madam Pomfrey shooing McGonagall and Sirius out of the Hospital Wing, and it wasn't long after that when sleep began to grip onto her.  
  
~*~  
  
The sun was just beginning to set when she awoke. Wisps of smoke from the smouldering herbs wafted through the Hospital Wing, the soft red glow of the setting sun basking the room in an almost mystical light. The time without time, neither day nor night, had broken. It is said that the world of the living, the realm of the dead and the spirit worlds are closer together at dusk than at any other time. It is also said to be the time when Hirin, Messenger of the Gods, collects the souls of the dead and leads them to the other side. Once again, the thundering of hooves accompanied her as her consciousness slipped away and she sank into the depths of her dark dreams.  
  
*  
  
When she opened her eyes again, she looked out upon a grey land. The sky was dark, full of black clouds, and the light was ashen. No sun, no moon, no stars. Time seemed to stand still in this barren place and the silence was almost deafening. This strange grey desert stretched out as far as she could see, and she slowly realised what her eyes beheld - she was in the no man's land between life and death. Her heart turned to stone and the sense of desperation was suddenly overwhelming. no hope can exist here.  
  
The only sound to break the silence was the snort of a horse. She turned around, hoping to make out the source of the noise, hoping for a sign, a way out of this horrible nightmare. With feet as heavy as stones she made her way through the gray dust. Each step raised a cloud of dust, dust as fine as ash, dust that left the taste of ground bones on her tongue.  
  
After what seemed to be an eternity, she came to a valley that opened like a wound in the barren plain. From the bottom of the valley she could hear murmurs and whispers, sounds like water flowing, or thousands and thousands of voices, babbling, moaning, calling. This was the Mor Duine, the River of Souls. From the beginning of time to its end, the Mor Duine flows between the worlds, carrying our souls until the end of days. Its surface shimmered like silver, its waters flowing through the dusky light until it disappeared from view. Down by the river bank she saw the source of the noise that had brought her here.  
  
It was Hirin, Messenger of the Gods, an imposing figure atop his black steed. He had ridden his mount to the edge of the river and behind him, on the bank, she could barely make out the shadowy contours of the dead. With a barely perceptable twitch of the reigns, the gigantic horse took a step into the water, which seemed to want to drag horse and rider into its silvery depths. Yet the animal stood firm, and soon the first souls followed, climbing down into the current. Deeper and deeper they waded into the water, passing horse and rider, until they were lost in the depths of the river. As this eerie procession continued, she realised that there was no hall for the dead, no garden of delight for the chosen few, only the river, whence everything that has been taken from it returns. The Mor Duine controls our souls, holding them captive until a new time and a new life is ready for them.  
  
Yet there were a few who stayed back from the water, hiding, fear and hate visible in their shadowed faces as they turned and crawled from their destiny. The mighty horse reared, snorted and stamped impatiently in the water, its rider pointing the way, demanding obediance to the natural order. But these fools kept crawling, fleeing from the river, refusing the deity's command, full of cowardice, until finally, Hirin gave up and rode off, up the ashen hill, full of contempt for these pitiful souls.  
  
No sooner had the God disappeared when she saw the others. hundreds, thousands, emerging from the shadows along the river banks, where they had hidden from the Messenger and his anger. Now they came to welcome the new arrivals, and as they passed her, she saw the hopelessness in all their distorted, ethereal faces, and the boundless hate for the life that refused to welcome them back, hate for the order they refused to follow. Here, on the banks of the river, they had become outcasts, prisoners of their own fear and desires, captives for all eternity. This is the realm of the dead; here, on the banks of the Mor Duine, where they wallow in self-pity. And then they came for her; like animals they crept closer and closer, their loathing wafting toward her like a poisonous breath. Frozen with fear, she looked into their scornful faces and terror overcame her. No living creature can fathom the depth of their hate, the hate of those destined to stay in this place forever.  
  
*  
  
With a thundering of hooves, the messenger tore her from their midst, tore her from this dream and back to the twilight of the Hospital Wing. Only the rush of the Mor Duine still sounded in her head, the murmuring, whispering of the endless river. The dream hadn't been as disturbing as the one of the night before, but it wasn't the most pleasant of all. She had better. Not stiffened with fear, but her head filled with confusion of the dream, Ginny sat up in the bed. It was dawn, a Sunday, so she sank back into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. After a while, Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office and stopped when she saw Ginny, a bead of sweating gleaming on her forehead.  
  
"Dear, are you alright?" With a quick nod Ginny sat up. But Madam Pomfrey wasn't confinced. Quickly walking over to where the girl was lying, she touched her forehead. She yelped and pulled her hand away from Ginny's forehead, as if she had burned it. But it was exactly the opposite. "My stars.. You're as cold as ice! What happened to you?"  
  
"Nothing, Madam. I feel absolutely fine!" Ginny said, her own hand on her forehead. She didn't feel odd, she felt great. Except for the images that were still in her head from the dream.  
  
"No, you're going to stay here until your temperature is back to normal. You're practically 0°!"  
  
"No honestly, Madam Pomfrey! There's nothing wro.." she trailed off as she stared at Madam Pomfrey, terrified. Well, it wasn't Madam Pomfrey anymore. It was the eyeless dead girl. With the same malicious grin as previous night, she leaned closer.  
  
Find her, Blooddrayne, the girl giggled, showing her sharp, bloodied teeth. Find her, Akasha.  
  
"Who's Blooddrayne? Who's Akasha?" Ginny asked as the girl began to change back into Madam Pomfrey again. Akasha Blooddrayne...  
  
"Ginny!" With a snap of her head she looked up at the person calling her name. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Sirius! You're DADA teacher!" Sirius looked at her as if she was crazy and then slowly nodded. "Who's Akasha Blooddrayne?"  
  
"Never heard of her. Why?" With a frown, Ginny's conciousness began to slip and with a last roll of her eyes, she was out.  
  
*  
  
A/N: I'm mean.. aren't I? Yes so.. anyway, this is longer! Isn't it? I love the way the 'dream' part came out. Mor Duine.. and Hirin plays a part in following chapters too! :o But I'm not gonna spoil it. And what the hell is that eyeless dead girl?! O.o  
  
Caipirinha the Piranha 


	3. Chapter 3: The Hopeless Fight

Blooddrayne  
  
Chapter 3: The Hopeless Fight  
  
The drums had stopped. Like on a signal their column halted it's advance. Warm, stinking rain poured down their faces as if it wanted to drown them and the dark mud sucked at their boots. This land had been eating at them since they had first set foot on it; it drained their bodies, spirits and mind. The land of Urgath gulped them down like a hideous toad, only to spit the remains out across the ocean whence they had come. Where they belonged. Lightning shot across the sky and lit up the line of trees ahead of them. There lay the wood like a breathing tumor, its sweet, foul stench filling their nostrils and sticking to their bodies and clothing, while the rain filled their mouths. The drums had stopped, the wood was silent. Everyone waited for battle. Again, lightning flashed and she looked around to her comrades, saw their faces in the pale light, numb with pain and exhaustion. As the thunder began to roll, darkness enveloped them once more, leaving only the sound of their heavy breathing and the perpetual noise of rain. The wood around them remained silent. For the blink of an eye, as the next bolt of lightning lit up the sky, she made out a huge, hideous form between the trees; she saw the bloated body, the long, gnarly arms, the ugly skull and the enormous club the creature held in its claw. Then blackness returned. Trolls.  
  
Like a curse the word spread through their ranks. None of the officers uttered a word, there were no calls to order. They were no more than a crowded pile of fear, fully aware that the wood would likely become their grave this night. The mud trembled under the onrush, only slightly at first, then like a quickened heartbeat. She did not know if the first row had even lowered their spears, but it would have made no difference - the short shafts were no match for what awaited them. They were soldiers of the sea, not land warriors. Then the beasts arrived like a thunderclap of deliverance. With an ear-splitting noise the trolls broke through their lines, the power of their attack crowding their bodies together like sheep at a gate. Stars danced before her eyes as her comrade's helmet threatened to crush her face. Desperately she fought against the wet iron and struggled for air. Ahead of them in the darkness she heard the ungodly sounds of battle, the cracking of the trolls' clubs and the death screams of her comrades. Like cattle they stood there, screaming, wedged together, waiting to die. Another bolt of lightning shot overhead and revealed their foes. There were not many trolls, but they passed through their ranks like a scythe through crops. The leaders with their leathery, scarred faces drove the others into our wall of spears, unrelenting with their tree-long chain whips. Again and again, the trolls' clubs mashed into the mass of men, crushing weapon and soldier alike, hurling them through the night like dolls. One of the others flew over their heads, then it was dark again. She rammed the shaft of her spear into the mud so as to not be buried beneath the waves of corpses. The sounds of battle came ever closer in the darkness, she could hear the roaring of the trolls, their primal screams full of pleasure and thirst for blood. Then her comrade's helmet was torn from in front her face, and she stood unprotected in the darkness. Blind and shaking with fear she raised her spear, its tip meeting resistance. She thrust it forward. The ensuing roar almost knocked her off her feet, and in the short light of another flash she saw what her spear had struck. Like a tower he loomed over her. His grey chest was wrapped in coarsely sewn leather, his dripping body pierced by broken spears. By all counts he should have been long dead, even before her spear had stuck into his breast, but the troll's roars where only full of rage, for the beasts knew neither pain nor fear of death. For a fleeting instant of light, they stared at each other, and he roared all his anger and wildness into her face before darkness fell. His club struck her, tossing her aside and sending her flying through the night. For a moment, she felt the wind around her, could not tell up from down, before the stinking mud finally engulfed her and with it the merciful darkness of unconsciousness. She woke surrounded by a dull sound like thunder, a sound that shook the mud under her broken body. A new day was dawning in Urgath, the stormclouds on the horizon were glowing in the crimson light of sunrise, highlighting the silhouette of the wood like a demonic aura. The tangly trees ensnared in rampant vines and the thousands of eyes that sough shelter there were lit up by an unholy glow, as though the land itself was satisfied with the bloody meal it had been served the night before. In the green ponds that night's rain had created lay the distorted corpses of her fallen comrades. She was alone, with only the omnipresent thunder as company. Painfully, she raised her head from the mud, seeking the origin of the sound. At that instant, they broke out of the undergrowth around her, grotesque shapes in the light of the rising sun. There were hundreds of them, hundreds and hundreds storming past her, an army of trolls at full march, and their onrush made the earth quake. Silent and paralysed she lay there, as growling shape after growling shape passed her in the morning fog, heading west. The fort was lost, their journey to this cursed land over once and for all. Then something huge, something disgusting broke out of the forest, the sight of which she could not describe, but which forced her broken legs to flee, away from this creature and the horrors of that place. But as she fled blindly through the undergrowth, something was always with her, mocking and taunting her like a foul breath on her neck.  
  
Ginny woke up, tears streaming down her face. She had never seen something that horrible. She never had a dream that felt so real, caused her so much pain. Pulling her knees up to her chin, she rocked back and fort, silently crying. After an hour of crying, Ginny wiped her eyes and got out of the bed, padding over to the bathroom. She knew the girl would be waiting there, but she wasn't afraid. She needed to know.  
  
Entering the dark bathroom, she looked over at the mirror, seeing nothing but her own reflection. Bending down, she opened the tap of the sink and sipped at the water. Wiping her mouth she looked up. With a yelp, she jumped back. Surrounded by hellfire, stood the little eyeless dead girl.  
  
Ginny! The girl giggled, oblivious to the fire lapping at her skin. Ginny!  
  
"Y-yes?"  
  
Find her, Ginny! She's calling them. The Red Horde! Find her, Akasha Blooddrayne!  
  
"Who is Akasha Blooddrayne?"  
  
The girl giggled and winked at Ginny. Don't you know?  
  
"No, I don't.. Tell me. Please?"  
  
Hirin knows, Ginny. Hirin knows. You're a Seer, didn't you know?  
  
"Stop with the riddles!" Ginny was getting angry. "Tell me, who is Akasha Blooddrayne!"  
  
Didn't you know? Hirin knows! Find her, Akasha Blooddrayne. Oh, you found her!  
  
"I..I did?" she said, confusion replacing anger. She saw the girl nod and bare her sharp, bloodied teeth.  
  
Hirin knows. Go to Mor Duine. Hirin knows!  
  
"I've already been to Mor Duine. Hirin saved me from those souls!"  
  
He did, did he? He doesn't want a flood. Hirin knows!  
  
And with those last words, the girl disappeared, waving at Ginny. She sat down on the bathtub, in thought. Hirin knows? But how do I get back to Hirin? To Mor Duine? And what did she mean, he doesn't want a flood? A flood of what? A flood of Mor Duine? And.. The Red Horde. In her first dream, the Red Horde was crawling up the pit. To her, to Akasha Blooddrayne. She was calling them, the girl had said. She had also said that she had found Akasha. But why didn't she know where Akasha was?  
  
As Ginny walked out of the bathroom, she lifted up her head. While her head was filled with confusion, she did know one thing. She had to go. She had to leave Hogwarts.  
  
*  
  
A/N: Now we know more. I laugh because I know who Akasha Blooddrayne is, and you don't. And didn't I tell you, Hirin will come sooner or later. Well, I hope this was fun.  
  
Caipirinha the Piranha 


	4. AN

A/N:  
  
I had to remove the first story and upload it again, because FF.net had messed it all up. Now I've lost my 1 review.. But anyway, please review and tell me what you think of it so far. I don't let you know who Akasha Blooddrayne is, yet, keeping you on the edge of your seat. I like that. Lmao! But please keep reading. This story is probably going to be a little 10 chapters, not that long. I don't like long stories. Takes in too much time.  
  
Preview next chapter:  
  
Ginny looked at the transperent form of the black horse and it's rider, knowing who he was. She had seen the same horse stamp in the river, Mor Duine. She had finally found him.  
  
She frowned. It hadn't taken that much of a search to find Hirin. He had actually come to her. Ginny's head snapped up when she heard hooves galloping from out of the forest, and a magnificent black unicorn came out.  
  
*  
  
Caipirinha the Piranha 


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